River of Dreams

Dreams are born

in misty mountains

of somnolence

Trickling streams

of spindled fingered

silver fluid light

Crystalline clear

from rain and dew

untainted by reality

Tributaries of hope

the vapoured trails

flow relentlessly on

Ever downwards

through the haunting

valleys of midnight

Growing, leaping

rippling, stumbling

over rocks of destiny

Through lush gardens

of rich fantasy and

abundant meadows

The river of dreams

disgorges it’s contents

into a sea of tranquility

To be caught and kept

or to be lost forever

in oceans deep


Field of War

I’m stood here in a field of mud

Covered in a comrade’s blood

I wear the soldier’s uniform

But I was not a soldier born

We fight our chosen foe all day

We leave our dead to rot away

We launch attack and then retreat

Blood oozes out beneath our feet

Our backs are up against a wall

I watch another comrade fall

I can not stand this any more

This awful bloody field of war

Bullets fly right past my head

I wish that I was home in bed

Instead of in this foreign field

Knowing neither side will yield

Generals up at high command

Tell us to make another stand

Safe inside their war games room

But we are here in stinking gloom

Alas the entire front rank died

Just one more form of suicide

I can not stand this any more

This awful bloody field of war

Tomorrow it will be the same

A dying voice calls out my name

I see a shattered, severed limb

But nothing can I do for him

Except to end his fearful pain

I shoot a bullet in his brain

And pray that soon it will all end

I just murdered my best friend

I can not stand this any more

This awful bloody field of war 


Kamal, soon will come your soul’s creation

From darkness that has ever been your home

Today will mark the end of your frustration

The mortal world will then be yours to roam

Kamal, now is the time for your salvation

Cocooned within your embryonic tomb

The seismic echoes of your incarnation

Are rebounding to guide you from the womb

Kamal, the gates of dawn are opened wide

The path you’ll tread is bathed in golden light

Don’t look down as you bridge the great divide

To seek refuge from the never ending night

Kamal, flames of karma are now burning

Sweet Avalon awaits around the bend

As the windmills of destiny are turning

A weeping violet blooms at journey’s end

Take a Look at the Desert Sunflowers!


Green Desert Sunset

Image by nebarnix via Flickr

Anza Borrego Desert Sunflowers – Borrego Springs, CA.

When I hear desert, I see in my mind’s eye a vast sea of sand and the occasional Bedouin on a camel. I can imagine many things about a desert, but not what I saw in this wonderful photograph. Go and take a look!

Stuff your Political Correctness Up…

Butterfly - by Google/imgres

You’ve done it now, yes, YOU! You’ve pissed me off, I, who am normally as equanimical as a mountain, as softly spoken as a blade of grass and as understanding as a hole in a tree! Have you ever in your life tried to have an argument with a hole in a tree? You should really try it! My point is that calling a turd by any other name, will not make it any less smelly! And conversely, calling a butterfly a bucket will not make it any less beautiful. It is all a matter of perception, but above all of embracing your being different from that most foul of things: the norm!

I happen to have a slight problem with my eyesight, in that I have to wear glasses. Does calling these glasses, spectacles make me more respectable? And more importantly, does it allow me to see better? You can call me four-eyes, if you so choose, but that would not change one iota of my humanity. It would only prove to me that you’re a fool! But should I get upset over it, for that is the question? That is up to me. If I feel insecure about something, then I can get upset over any word and at any moment in time. But changing the word will not change the circumstance.

I’m going to go out on a limb now and I don’t give a damn if a get a lot of flak about it. I shall take the for instance of black people. I happen to admire black people and I think they are beautiful, but calling them “people of African descent” does not change the lovely colour of their skin! And please let’s leave out the hypocrisy, it will not change the past! Bloody lighten up everybody, will you! I am called white, but I just looked in the mirror and I don’t see anything that suggests the non-colour white, when I look at my skin. Again, calling me that does not change anything about my being a human being, like all the rest of my brothers and sisters.

In fact, I am not at all proud to be numbered amongst the white race. Because, when you look at history, it must be said that we are the BEST! The best at taking what is not ours, the best at corrupting and/or  utterly destroying other cultures, the best at genocide. No, I am not proud about what the white man has done. We seem to be the worst subspecies of Homo Idioticus, in that we seem to want to destroy everything that’s beautiful and sincere on this planet and if we get the chance, we’ll take our arrogance out into space. But when push comes to shove, it’s only a label, for I am my own MAN and I take responsibility for my own actions.

Alright, I shall join the club of labellers and make up my own. I henceforth insist on being known as a member of the species known as U-man, as in “I love U”! And U and U and all of U! And I don’t give a shit, if you’re short or tall or white or polka dot, as long are you’re part of my worldwide family of U-mans…

P.S.: After realising that I might have formerly maligned turds, I should say in their defense that I have seen some quite interesting looking ones!

P.P.S.: I should also state that I have some friends that are white and they seem sort of Ok! Hey, even my family is white, but I refuse to take the blame for that or they for me, for that matter.

P.P.P.S.:  By the way, isn’t “politically correct” an oxymoron? Whoever came up with that one: Richard Nixon? I’m going to rechristen it “politically expedient” right now!